November

November 16: Wednesday

The port was where they had the first of their trouble. Brian's friend, bosun of a small boat that took minor tours down to the Caribbean, had gotten the flu and was on strict bedrest in town. He'd sent his brother to the meeting spot to relay the message, his apologies, and an invitation to come have dinner at his mother's house on the outskirts of town. Brian had thanked the kid for his help, ignored the odd look he'd given them, and graciously refused the invitation of dinner. It would be too dangerous to travel through town in the daylight, not so long as the Institute had their pictures posted at every stopping point across the nation. They decided to linger for a day by the shore, camp out on the beach, and leave to look for Brian's friend in the dim, early morning. Hopefully, he'd be a bit better by then; maybe back on his feet, or at least able to talk to them himself. Brian needed him to get them on the boat unchecked.

In the offing, Brian watched the lights of ships and small boats twinkle by and disappear into the dusk. He imagined one of those lights belonging to their boat; the boat they would have been on had things not gone awry in only the first leg of the journey. He wondered when the next boat was leaving; he hadn't thought to ask and hadn't planned on missing the first. He'd made sure he had supplies enough for a delay, but not a long one. If there were no sooner boat...he strategized to himself as they sat side by side in the sand, Havar drawing nervous little circles between his knees with a stick. Havar had been quiet since they'd left the bosun's brother, but suddenly he spoke.
"Why are you doing this for me?"
Brian looked over at him, startled out of his thoughts.
"You're my friend. I wouldn't leave you behind."
He looked back out at the ocean. Havar watched him quietly for a moment before turning back to poke at the wet sand again. The tide was coming in, and gray wind was whipping foam and sand and sea mist into their faces.
"What are we going to do when we get to India?"
Brian shrugged.
"Farm work at first, I bet. Then anything I can find in the city. I've got enough training to work as a teacher, soldier, transporter, whatever."
Havar's jaw twitched.
"And what will I do?"
Brian glanced sideways at him.
"Whatever you want, I guess."
"So we'll just get there and go our separate ways? I'll live in some part of India, and you'll live in another, we'll never see each other again?"
Brian frowned.
"That doesn't make any sense. We were roommates before, at Academy. We can be roommates again."
Brian furrowed his brow. Havar spoke carefully.
"So we'll live together."
"Yeah, I guess so. Makes sense, doesn't it?" he glanced again at Havar. "Besides, friends stick together."
Havar felt his stomach do something funny.
"Yeah, exactly. We'll be like a team."
"Yup."
"Live together, work together...it'll be just like here."
"Just like the old days."
"Kind of like a family, aren't we?"
Brian looked at Havar with surprise, but quickly covered it.
"Yeah, I guess we are."
Now Havar turned his gaze out, to the horizon, with Brian.
"It's kinda sad, isn't it? We're the only family we'll ever have, Inderson. Either of us. We're going into exile, in India."
They both sat in silent reflection.
"Did you ever want a family, Indy?"
Brian hesitated.
"A real family, I mean. Kids and a house. Someone to come home to. The whole set."
Brian shrugged uneasily.
"Everyone does, don't they?"
"Not me. The minute we get to India, I'm finding a doctor and getting this whole...mistake fixed."
Brian's look was fleeting, almost unnoticeable, but Havar caught it. It was fear, and beneath that, rage. Then it was gone. Blankness and a furrowed brow were in its place. Brian scoffed.
"Even in India, they won't do that for you."
Havar shrugged.
"I'll find a way."
As he got up to make camp, he felt Brian watching him from the shore.